I tried to talk to Dr. Schiff about Sam on Saturday during my half-hour session with her. She told me I needed to stop holding other people to an unrealistic standard. I’d asked her what was so unrealistic about expecting someone to be honest. I called Jennica and filled her in on everything, and she was totally sympathetic. “I’m beginning to think that all guys are more trouble than they’re worth,” she told me. I wasn’t sure I agreed with her, though. No matter how mad I was at Sam.
Tanner had Cody’s sister, Sarah, over on Sunday. They watched TV and played video games, and I could hear them laughing. I felt a strange blend of relief, pride, and jealousy. Relief, because it meant there was hope for Tanner. Pride, because if I hadn’t started the group that included Cody, Tanner wouldn’t have met Sarah. And, embarrassingly, jealousy, because Tanner was learning how to cope while I seemed to be getting more and more lost by the day.
On Monday morning, I walked into trig class to find Sam waiting by my seat.
“Hey, Lacey,” he said, like we were the only two people in the room.
“Hey,” I mumbled, both wanting and not wanting to see him.
“Lacey,” Sam said, putting his hand on mine. I bit my lower lip and moved my hand away. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. Did you get my e-mail?”
“Yeah,” I said. I paused. “And I’m glad your dad woke up.” I really was, and I wanted him to know that.
“Thanks,” he said. “And Lacey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“You lied to us,” I whispered. “You lied to me.”
“I never lied,” he said, shaking his head. “I just—I just didn’t correct the misunderstanding.”
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After school I walked home by myself. I didn’t know where Logan was, and Jennica had to stay after school to work on a history group project.
The sun was low in the sky. The days were getting shorter and the nights longer, but that was okay; I liked the darkness. It was only four in the afternoon, but the first colors of sunset were starting to gather on the horizon.
I was so lost in thought five minutes later that it barely registered when a vehicle slowed beside me.
“Lacey?”
It was Sam in his Cherokee, his window rolled down. “Lacey, get in,” he said. “It’s cold out.”
I shook my head, not stopping. “I’m fine.” But Sam kept inching his Jeep along.
“I’ll follow you the whole way home if you want,” Sam said. “But wouldn’t it be easier to just get in? It’s not getting any warmer.”
I snorted and quickened my pace. “I like to walk.”
But Sam was right. I only had a denim jacket on, and the cold was starting to seep into my bones. It was another fifteen minutes home. I’d be fine, but the heated interior of a car was admittedly tempting.
“Please, Lacey? Just give me a chance to talk to you for five minutes.”
I hesitated, watching my warm breath crystallize into little white clouds. Finally, I got in.
“Thanks,” Sam said. He glanced in the rearview mirror as I buckled my seat belt. Then he pulled slowly away from the curb.
We didn’t say anything for a little while. Then Sam said, “Look, Lacey. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged and looked out the window. The oranges and pinks to the west were inching farther up the sky as the horizon began to tug the curtain down on the day.
“I’m glad for you,” I said. “I’m glad your dad is fine.”
“No you’re not,” Sam said. His words sliced into me, and I turned to look at him.
“I am,” I said. “Really. I would give anything in the world to have my dad back. And I’m glad that’s happening to you. But the thing is, you tricked me. You made me feel like you understood me.”
“I do understand.”
My breath felt heavy, and the air around me seemed suddenly in short supply. I gazed at the sky again and thought about what Sam had said about rainbows. It had all been just words. “You can’t understand!” I said. My eyes felt dry, and I blinked a few times, trying to get the burning sensation to go away. “Your dad is alive, Sam! You have another chance with him. You can talk to him and tell him about your day and tell him you love him. Even when he was in a coma, you could say all those things to him, and there was a chance he could hear you.”
“Lacey, don’t you think your dad can hear you too?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. His words that night about rainbows and my dad looking over us just sounded ridiculous now. “No,” I said. “And I think you’re pretty much the last person who should be saying something like that to me.”
We had pulled into my neighborhood. I was silent as Sam parked his Jeep alongside the curb in front of my house. I glanced at him and was surprised to see how wounded he looked. I suddenly felt a little bad.
“Is he doing okay?” I asked. “Your dad, I mean?”
Sam nodded. “It’s hard to watch him,” he said. “He can’t move the right side of his face. He talks funny, and he can’t remember a lot of words.”
“But he’s alive,” I couldn’t help but add.
“Yeah.”
Then, before he had a chance to say anything else, I climbed out of the Jeep and slammed the door behind me. I could feel Sam watching me the whole way to the house. I had to stop myself from looking back at the street when I let myself in the front door.
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